


Flawed Paradise

by Seven_Zero_Seven



Category: Mystic Messenger
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, MintEye, New Character - Freeform, RFA, Romance, magenta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 21:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8595337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seven_Zero_Seven/pseuds/Seven_Zero_Seven





	2. Prologue

  _I live by a set of simple rules. They govern how I think and the decisions I make. They keep me from screwing up. I've made the rules to prevent disaster, but clearly I haven't followed them well enough_. 

       _Here's my rules :_

  1. _Don't draw attention._
  2. _Avoid large crowds and physical contact._
  3. _Don't fall in love._



_These rules have protected me for years. I've trusted them. They have some problems, but I didn't know how deeply flawed they really were. After all, they hadn't failed me yet. That all changed soon enough._


	2. Chapter 1

Standing in front of a full-length mirror, I stared at my reflection. Tired blue eyes stared back. My eyes were very noticeable, standing out strikingly against my too-pale skin, I realized. I looked the same as always, with my messy blonde hair and dirty converse. They were four, maybe five years old now. I couldn't remember what they had looked like back then. My dark jeans were so faded at the knees that they'd developed natural rips. I was wearing a blood-red t-shirt that was too baggy, bunching up at the bottom, and the neckline was too low for my liking. I had a black hoodie tied tightly around my waist, as well.

I sighed, patted down my hair once more, and turned from the mirror, disgusted at my appearance. I grabbed the bookbag from the bottom of my bed and rummaged through to make sure everything was there. Spare clothes, water bottles, snacks, thirteen dollars (all of the money I had found in the past few weeks), my phone, earbuds, sketchbook, and charcoal pencils. Yup, that was everything. The bookbag was mine back in high school. At the time, it was light gray and new. Now, not so much. The color had turned to a dusty tan, and the underside was covered in scuff marks and dirt.

I pulled the bag over my shoulder after taking out my phone and earbuds. As I descended the stairs to the front door of my house, I tried to untangle the wires of the earbuds. Frustrated that I couldn't, I stopped paying attention and tripped. I landed on the hard wood with a loud thud that seemed to echo loudly in the otherwise silent house. I climbed up from my sprawled position, cursing. Brushing off my hands, I stood. My phone lay on the ground, face down. I picked it up, along with my earbuds, still tangled.

I sat on the last step and fixed the earbuds, then turned my phone over to plug them in. A huge crack spiderweb bed across the screen. Groaning, I swiped the screen and input my password. The once smooth screen was ruined, like mostly everything I owned. I'm a clumsy person. Opening the music app, I put the earbuds in my ears, letting the blasting music distract me as I left the house, locking the door behind me. I wouldn't need keys to get back in. The first-floor window by the hallway was always unlocked anyways.

It was early October, just beginning to get cold outside. The air hit me like a brick after so long in the humid building. Breathing happily, I strolled down the uneven sidewalk, the blue sky peppered with fluffy white clouds. It was so nice outside.

Tap, tap, tap, went my feet.

Nearing the end of my neighborhood, I closed my eyes for a short minute. No one was around, and cars were no where in sight. I suppose I underestimated the time my eyes were shut, because I stupidly didn't open them and collided with something all of a sudden.

I stumbled backwards and fell on my ass. "Oof!" I yelped unintentionally. "Ugh..." I squinted up at the man I'd run into. He hadn't fallen. "Watch where you're going," he said coldly before sighing and reaching his hand down to me. I guess he expected me to take it so he could help me stand up, but I remembered Rule #2 : avoid physical contact. I'd already drawn attention.

However, I thought it would only draw his attention more if I refused to let him help me. I bit my tongue and grabbed his hand lightly. It was cold to the touch. He tightened his grip and pulled me up. I stood and immediately released his hand. "Sorry. Sorry, I–" He cut me off with a somewhat curt "It's fine. Just pay attention from now on."

For the first time, I got a good look at the man. He was as pale as me, with white hair tipped with red. It fell in front of his face, which, I admit, was very attractive. His eyes were a beautiful mint green color. I noticed that his outfit was fairly similar to my own. Dark jeans, red tank top, black jacket over the tank, one sleeve of which was falling off his shoulder to reveal some kind of tattoo. I was about to get a better look at it before I remembered that I shouldn't care. I didn't know this man, and he didn't know me. His tattoo shouldn't matter in the slightest, although I was curious.

He seemed to notice my appearance at the same time I noticed his. "Where are you going that you need a backpack anyway?" He asked. Perturbed by the question, I stuttered, "I– I was just.... It doesn't matter." I shook my head and continued walking. "I apologize again," I said over my shoulder. Shit. I should have paid attention. Now I've broken both aspects of Rule 2. Oh, well. It couldn't really matter anyway, right? It was one encounter. It wasn't going to be the end of the world. I kept walking.

Tap, tap, tap.

As I left the man behind, I tried to forget the whole experience. I concentrated again on the music and lyrics, turning up the volume. I didn't hear footsteps behind me an didn't realize he was following me until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I whipped around, startled, and took a step backwards. The man raised his hands in surrender. I pulled out my earbuds. "What?" I asked, sounding more impatient than I meant to. He had helped me, after all.

He looked like he was also questioning his reasons for following me, but quickly pulled back his hand and said, "I asked where you were going. I'd like an answer... If you don't mind," he added. I sighed, knowing I wasn't about to tell him anything. "I'm really sorry I ran into you, and thank you for helping me up, but where I'm going really isn't any of your business," I replied.

He raised his eyebrows. "I should get going," I said, turning away and walking stiffly away. He grabbed my arm. "What's your name?" He asked.

"Excuse me?"

"What's. Your. Name?" He spoke as if I was a toddler.

"Why the hell do you care?" I regretted sounding so harsh, but this guy had no right to know anything about me.

"I'm curious. I just want your first name," the man insisted.

"If I tell you, will you leave me alone?" I asked, tired of this.  
He nodded.

"Alyson," I told him. I turned and walked away briskly. No reason to stay. He got what he wanted. Dammit, why did I have to run into him? Can't I be a normal human being? I put my earbuds in yet again and shut out the world, with 'Demons' by Imagine Dragons blasting through my head.  
_________  
Later that day, the man sat in front of a glowing computer screen, searching for any and all Alysons in the area. With only 8 results, he knew finding the girl again wouldn't be hard. Satisfied with his work, he sat back and thought about his encounter with the subtly beautiful girl. How she had shied away from his touch and then snapped at him not a minute later. Alyson. He wasn't about to forget that name.


	3. Chapter 2

  
Sitting silently at a small booth in the Dunkin Donuts nearest my house, I sipped at my hot coffee and replayed the conversation I had with the unknown man in my mind. Why has he cared about where I was going? Why had he been so determined to learn my name? He was some random stranger who shouldn't give a damn about my first name or any aspect of my life. I shook my head. It didn't make sense, but it couldn't possibly matter. Surely I'd never see the man again.   
___________________  
The man looked again at the list of Alysons in the area, wondering which one he had met.   
1\. Alison Smith   
2\. Alyson Johnson  
3\. Allison Burne  
4\. Allyson Teller  
5\. Alyson Sanders  
6\. Alison Lowe  
7\. Alyson Webb  
8\. Alyson Webb

There were two people by the name of Alyson Webb. Probably a mother and daughter. He decided to try them first. If that didn't play out right he'd work his way up the list.

After hacking the local police station's files, the man searched for 'Alyson Webb.' Scrolling through the files that came up, he saw that one was deceased, having passed away seventeen years earlier. The other was twenty years old, still alive. He looked at the description of her displayed there.

"Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Born May 19th, 1996. Reported missing twice, once in 2013, again in 2015...."

As the man read, he grew more and more interested in the girl. He couldn't know for sure, but this sounded like the one he'd met. The appearance was correct, and the man had guessed she was about twenty. Okay.

He scrolled further, soon coming across a home address. The man quickly scribbled it down and stuffed it in his pocket. Alyson had seemed to have been leaving her house, and with a stuffed bookbag, too. She might have been running away. If that was the case, he wouldn't find her at the address, but he might meet a family member of hers.

The man set out for the address ten minutes later.   
_______________  
I snuck behind the run down, three-story building into a long alleyway. It was dimly lit, but I knew my way around. Stuffing my phone into my bag, I walked along the dark pavement past brightly lit signs advertising for bars or tattoo places. There was an abandoned lot where some company had planned to build a neighborhood, but apparently they'd run out of money and left behind the area, along with the few things they built.

The first time I had run away from home, three years ago, it had been partially due to me having found this lot. I would spend time after school in the one house, which was fully built but not yet furnished. When I ran away, I was lucky enough to find a beaten down mattress in the alley, laid up against the brick wall of some shop. I'd lugged it to the house and put it in the master bedroom. I kept all my stuff there. I stayed there for almost two weeks over summer break before I ran out of money and began to starve. When I returned home I tried to simply take money and leave again, but I was caught and not allowed out of the house for a few days.

My mother died in a car crash when I was three. Apparently some dumbass drunk driver hit her car while she was driving me to preschool. I escaped okay, but she was killed on impact. I didn't really remember the crash, but I'd heard stories. After that, my father began to sink into a depression. He drank too much, and although he tried to care for me, he sometimes forgot I even existed. Around the time I started high school, he finally started to take antidepressants and see a therapist and whatever. Still, my home life was boring and lonely. I didn't have many friends growing up. I was often considered a freak and an outcast, and I was very relieved when I finished high school and gained some freedom.

I didn't have enough money for an apartment, so I stayed at home for a while, but I ended up running away again. I spent a month in the abandoned house before again, running out of money despite the part time job I had gotten. Both times I left my father reported me missing, and so I had the cops on my ass the whole time.

Suddenly, I was snapped out of my thoughts when I realized I'd reached the lot. I snuck through the hole in the fence I'd once cut with a very large pair of hedge cutters.

After practically jogging across the wild ground that spurted with untamed grass and weeds, I made it to the house and entered the front door. It wasn't locked, of course. The company had thrown away all the keys, so I was usually careful not to lock the door. Even if I did, I could just break in anyway, though.

I climbed the stairs to the mater bedroom and opened the slightly creaky door. Home sweet home, I guess. Tired, I collapsed on the mattress and fell instantly into a dreamless sleep.  
_________________  
The man approached the front door of Alyson Webb's house and double checked the address was right. Yup. Okay. He rung the doorbell and stepped back, waiting patiently for an answer. After almost a full minute, the man became agitated and nearly turned around, figuring no one was home, when he heard footsteps and the door opened.

A tall, rather pudgy man with a red face and stained t-shirt stood before him. He had grey hair with the barely noticeable remnants of what once was brown, and a bushy mustache that matched his eyebrows. He was also holding a half empty beer bottle. "Whaddaya want?" The older man slurred. He must have been drunk.

The younger man forced a smile. "Excuse me, sir. Do you happen to have a daughter by the name of Alyson Webb?" The old man squinted and replied, "Yeah. Whaddaya want with Alyson?"

"Well, you see, sir," began the man, "Your daughter seems to have run away again." Hey, even if he was wrong, it would get the old drunk's attention. The old man took a minute to respond. "Has she?" He finally asked. "Not again! Eh, you oughta leave now, young man. I've gotta call down tuh the puhlice station and report her missin'." With that, the drunken man turned away and slammed the door without another word. 'Well that was useful,' thought the younger man sarcastically. 'At least I won't be the only one looking for her, though.'

Sighing, the man strolled back down the steps and away from the house. She had to be around somewhere.


End file.
